Insatiable
by Midii Une
Summary: A wish made in a cemetery has unexpected results...3xMU, Halloween fic!
1. Part One: Wishes and Curses

Insatiable  
By Midii Une  
  
Part One: Wishes and Curses  
  
Disclaimer: Trowa Barton, Midii Une, Episode Zero and Gundam Wing are the property of Sotsu Agency*Sunrise, etc. This story, like most of my others, is not for children, this one contains blood and evil! Inspired by a gorgeous piece of vampiric fanart by the talented Great Saiyagal. Check it out here-http://www.geocities.com/spysilencer/newmain.html  
  
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The sky was a crisp, bright azure, so clear that if the human eye were powerful enough the visibility would reach to the stratosphere. It was a sky peculiar to autumn on Earth. The cool, hazy mists of spring were absent and the humidity of summer had given way to the unique clarity that came only at this time of year. Each boldly-colored leaf on the skeletal-limbed trees stood out in stark distinction against the fathomless blue.  
  
The lavishness of nature's beauty was the planet's last effort to cling to the life-giving summer season before the decay of winter set in. Already the stench of moldering leaves rose from the damp earth and some of the more fragile flowers were drooping and brown.  
  
The harvested fields surrounding the small country cemetery were golden in the distance and although the brave sun shed little warmth on the scene it still illuminated the countryside with burnished brilliance. The picture the tiny graveyard presented with its shining new white marble markers was quaint and lovely. The white and the blue and the gold masking the myriad evil presences that lingered in the place. A place that restrained the tormented souls and hopes of those who had died too soon, too young and with too many dreams unfulfilled.  
  
The brightness of the sun was reflected in the color of the girl 's hair. The blue of the sky echoed in her eyes, the lovely color hiding things that were dark. She lingered there beside a pair of graves; she knew also the sorrow of loss and unanswered desire. But she lived, as they did not. They did not even have names, they were little more than feelings, a little less than concrete beings but they were jealous and spiteful and relentless. They disguised themselves in the wind and the dead leaves, pressing themselves against the girl unable to do little more than taste the intensity of her emotions. They desired her yet they despised her as well. She had life as they did not and yet still she, who in their eyes had so much, mourned what she did not have and desired something as strongly as they desired life.  
  
They are in a better place, Midii thought to herself, looking sorrowfully at the deeply carved names on the marble crosses standing side by side. Mama and Papa, help me, she thought, closing her eyes tightly against the obscenely bright sky and clenching her hands between her breasts.  
  
The girl was the type who had always wanted what was out of her reach. All her desire pinpointing on the thing it seemed she could not have. There had been a boy once when she was a child. Her wishes for him had focused into intense pleading. Keep him safe, do not let him die. And it had happened that way, the boy had been safe even as everyone around them died. But her wish attained, Midii hadn't stopped, hadn't been happy. Let me see him again, she had whispered in her heart for years, let me see him again and let me know that he has forgiven me. That will be enough, it will be enough that he doesn't hate me.  
  
And she had met the boy again, a young man now with the same restrained emotions as the boy. His forgiveness was easily given, so easily it seemed that he had hardly thought of her or the hurt she'd caused him in all the years she had worried and wished. He had done too much himself to see wrong in others. Had been responsible for creating places like the one she sat in now. Trowa Barton, the reason for many small green hills dotted with white marble crosses and surrounded by gold fields, seemingly serene beneath azure skies. Their reunion had been so anti-climactic, leaving her empty and anxious and desperate.  
  
"I never blamed you," he said, barely grazing her face with the touch of his emerald eyes. He looked at her as if he hardly recognized her, could hardly recall what she had been to him. In the life he had led her presence had been only the smallest of intrusions, easily forgotten and just as easily forgiven.  
  
"I love you Nanashi," the girl thought, pulling her knees up and hugging her arms around them as she sat in the graveyard. She shivered as the cool breeze tangled in her hair and seemed to bite at her face, bringing the red blood up beneath her pale skin to stain her cheeks.  
  
"I love him," she repeated desperately, remembering how he treated her. As if she weren't there, as if she meant nothing to him, as if he were trying to figure out what it was she wanted and why she wouldn't go away.  
  
"I wanted to always be beside you," she whispered aloud, bowing her head as a swirl of crumpled brown leaves were picked up by the wind and scratched at her face. She shielded her eyes from the assault with her long black lashes, a prickle of lonely fear raising goosebumps on her arms. She felt so alone in the world, the silence in the little cemetery was thick and palpable as the wind stilled, leaving the thin, dark limbs of the trees unnaturally still as a few more leaves tumbled mutely to the ground below.  
  
"If only he wanted me as I want him," she mourned sadly, conjuring a vision of the sensual face he hid behind a shock of auburn hair and the eyes that seemed always so empty when they looked at her. What wouldn't she give to see them sparkle with emotion, desire, hunger, love?  
  
She'd gotten a support staff job with Preventer to stay near him but he barely acknowledged her presence. His friends were her friends but the gentle hints of the girls and the outspoken teasing of the other boys resulted in nothing. He didn't' ask her out, he didn't try to hold her hand, he barely looked at her.  
  
And meanwhile what she felt was like a hunger in her heart, an insatiable longing. He was like a puzzle she couldn't solve and victory would be seeing emotion in those eyes. Why should she be so full of feeling for him and he feel nothing for her?  
  
Midii threw her head back and looked up into the sky, it was darkening to sapphire and the wind was picking up again. Trowa, Trowa, she whispered. The word carried away on the breeze, swirling with the turbulent air and heard by the alert and watchful presences, anxious to venture and probe into the world of light.   
  
"Oh Trowa," she said again, leaning back on her arms and looking upward, sending her prayer to heaven, or so she thought. "If only you needed me. Needed me or you couldn't live, if I was like your very heart, your very blood." A small smile curved her full pink lips as she thought of how it could be, if only her wish could come true.  
  
The things that inhabited the graveyard strained against her eagerly and she brushed her hands over her arms to dismiss the creepy-crawly feeling that was sweeping over her. A gust of wind knocked over the little glass jar of blood-red roses she had placed between her parents' graves. Midii leaned over to pick up the crimson flowers and replace them and a thorn imbedded itself deeply into the soft flesh of her thumb. A spot of dark, rich blood welled up against the white skin and sat there like a ruby on a pure velvet field. She gasped and took hold of the injured spot with her good hand, pressing against her palm with her fingers and watching the spot of blood well up and grow larger, the scarlet fluid dripped down her hand and down onto the dead leaves that rustled against her skirt before the wind grabbed them and carried them off until they seemed to disappear into the darkening blue. A sliver of silver moon appeared low in the sky and the pale blue that surrounded the setting sun was luminescent against the approaching darkness.  
  
Midii's wish passed through the presences in the graveyard like a malicious piece of gossip. The bloodstained leaves swirled in an eerily joyful dance about the white crosses that almost seemed to glow in the gathering gloom.  
  
The air grew icy-cold, the fleeting warmth of Indian summer swallowed by a stronger force, the stillness disappeared too as wind gusted through the trees, shaking off still more leaves and making the tree limbs wave like frantic dancers. Midii shivered and stared down at her hand, the blood trailing along the lifelines in her palm and trickling down her wrist, so much blood for a small wound. A sudden movement caught her eye, loose soil rolling down the slightly mounded earth of Mother's grave. She forgot her wishes, forgot Trowa, fascinated by the movement, unable to tear her eyes away even as her heart pounded in her chest and her throat tightened. A bone-white something was visible now beneath the dirt, it seemed to be clawing its way through the soil and she was helplessly fascinated, leaning closer to assure herself it was a worm or maggot or other small creature whose presence here could be explained.   
  
Her heart leapt to her throat, trapping the scream and her eyes widened with terror as cold, grimy fingers burst from the grave and clutched her wrist. The coldness of the grip so intense that the warm flow of her blood almost sizzled against the dead hand. The terrified girl's mouth worked but no sound came out and the frigid grasp was effectively paralyzing. The fear overwhelmed her and she fell back unconscious on the grave, below the cross that bore her mother's name, her own name, Midii Une.  
  
A wish gone awry, a wish become a curse. The entities that swirled beneath the peaceful façade of the graveyard hummed with malicious power and with the taste of her blood as the filthy, red-stained hand retreated back below the ground, the earth smoothing over it as if it had never been disturbed. The deep blue sky turned black with the onset of night and the leaves escaped on a burst of air that skittered down the lonely road.  
  
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The boy who traveled the lonely road on the back of his motorcycle with only the wind for company was not as unaware of the girl as she supposed. She was in his thoughts more than he wanted to admit but he was slow to trust, slow to admit his feelings. For now it was enough that he saw her sometimes. He wasn't like other people, had never grown to need the warmth, the company and the touch of another. When she crossed his path and she filled his vision the feelings were far from unpleasant but not yet enough to spur him to action to make that happen just for the sake of seeing her. The occasional, accidental encounter was enough.  
  
Night had fallen quickly, the sun slipping beyond the hills and the sky purple-black. The stars were just appearing, white pinpricks of light like glittering jewels on the rich gown of the heavens. He loved the stars and the night, it was the time when outer space seemed to reach out from above and touch the Earth. Speeding recklessly on his bike along the winding road in the dark was the closest thing to being there, he had discovered that at a young age. So when his friends thought he'd disappeared on more serious matters or just left to be alone this was where he usually was, this dark and solitary road. There was a cemetery ahead, placed on a hill so that in the darkness it was completely quiet and surrounded by stars. Bare white birch trees flanked the fence, limbs upraised in supplication and starkly pale against the blackness of the sky.  
  
He slowed the bike and let the engine die, the soft growl of the machine telling him that as usual it was finely-tuned and cared for, he was, if nothing else, a meticulous technician and the bike was one of his few concessions to material possessions, a powerful and expensive toy.  
  
His eyes adjusted easily to the dark and he walked with catlike sureness over the uneven terrain of the cemetery, easily dodging the small white marble crosses that dotted the place. Curiosity rather than fear drove him to investigate the small sound he heard coming from the other side of the hilltop although he could see nothing but the faint gleam of the myriad white gravestones in the darkness. They couldn't compete with the fabulous view of the stars his vantage point afforded but the sound of something, someone perhaps, in trouble drew him. He considered himself a soldier, a professional killer, but he hid a deep concern for others beneath his stoic mask.  
  
The still, white body lying on the grave could have been a marble statue, toppled by wind and time. Except this place was new and there were soft, whispering moans coming from the figure. She lay there, arms outspread beneath the cross, her eyes closed, her skin as pale and cold as the marble that bore her name. And then he was afraid, it was like a nightmarish movie, unbelievable and illogical but happening. It was still and quiet, the intermittent wind at peace for the moment and he heard her breathing, it seemed as if the sound started his own heart beating again, the small place she had captured for herself in his heart growing larger, making itself felt as he brushed a hand over her cold cheek. He jumped, startled, when her eyes opened with eerie suddenness. They stared up at him, dark and shining and frightened. Midii sat up quickly although he tried to keep her from standing too fast. He didn't push her away as she clung to the edges of his jacket, clung as if he was the only thing keeping her standing.  
  
"What are you doing here? What happened Midii? The name on that stone . . .   
  
"My mother," Midii whispered. "I was named for her." She dared to glance back over her shoulder. I hurt my hand on a thorn, I must've fainted, I don't know why . . . "she trailed off, shivering violently in the cold night air. The hand, she must have imagined it.  
  
"What are you doing here," she asked, her voice softening. Had he by some miracle been looking for her?  
  
He shrugged but kept a steadying arm around her shoulders. "I come here to see the stars. I didn't know your parents were buried here. To tell the truth I never even think of what this place is or look at any of the names."  
  
"You're still a stargazer," she said, smiling a little, remembering. She raised her hand to touch his cheek, smearing some blood near his lips. Midii frowned. "Damn, it's still bleeding. It must be deep."  
  
Trowa pulled out a handkerchief with a flourish worthy of a born showman and wrapped it around her hand efficiently. "Don't worry about it, wounds on the hand tend to keep re-opening. You'll be alright. I'll give you a ride back."  
  
Midii stared after Trowa, her mouth hanging slightly open in disappointment as he sped away from her apartment building after barely stopping long enough to let her get off. Her mind dwelt momentarily on the things she had thought in the cemetery. She had already convinced herself that the hand must have been a product of her imagination in that frightening and isolated place. The next time she'd take one of her brothers along. She turned and went into the building, frustrated that although he had seemed briefly tender after finding her in the cemetery he had hardly even been polite when he'd left her.   
  
She sighed as she peered out the window and watched him disappear on the road back to the graveyard. That had always been Nanashi's way, incredibly sweet and protective one moment and the next seeing right through a person as if they didn't exist.  
  
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He could still feel the warm embrace of her slender arms around his waist, the weight of her head resting against his back. Trowa put his head down against the wind and momentarily wished he wore a helmet as Cathrine always pestered him to do. He was a Gundam pilot for pity's sake and he felt certain he could control a mere motorcycle no matter what the circumstance.  
  
Besides, he reasoned, the wind in his face, was one of the reasons he enjoyed riding so much, it seemed to blot out every other thought and he could just fly, mindless and content to be alone. Tonight though, Midii's presence seemed to cling and he started remembering what it had been like to be with her so long ago. They had ridden together like that years ago, he had saved her from the attack. He ran his tongue over his dry lips and tasted something unfamiliar and coppery. He remembered she had gotten blood from her hand on his face and wiped the back of his own hand over his mouth but he could still taste her and unconsciously the tip of his tongue reached up and flicked at the top of his lip again, seeking another taste.  
  
The white trees were visible in the distance, she didn't live far from the cemetery and though it was just outside the pleasant little suburb of Paris where Preventer had its headquarters the little graveyard seemed as if it were far from civilization. The exact reason he had always liked coming there. As Trowa picked up speed coming down the hill he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Some small animal, a cat or other nocturnal creature, he panicked, his thoughts not completely focused on his driving. The handles of the motorcycle seemed to freeze, forcing the wheel to the right and Trowa didn't even think to jump off as he had often done when evading pursuit during the war. His last thought was irritation that the bike shouldn't be performing this way.  
  
Pale yellow streaks cut through the dark gray sky, signaling the approach of dawn when Trowa woke up. He frowned at the mangled wreckage of his prized motorcycle and squinted at the dimly-lit sky, wishing incongruously for sunglasses. He rubbed cold fingers over his eyes and patted down his pockets before coming up with a pair of dark glasses and he fumbled to put them on.  
  
He winced as he looked at the splintered wood of the birch tree he had hit. He knew that he shouldn't have hit it. It had been like the bike had a mind of its own. Time enough though to investigate the mechanical failure later. He had to get home, the familiar warm feeling as he thought the word home was still there, but it was different, stronger even than usual.   
  
"I'm lucky to be alive," he thought, touching his fingers to the tree and stealing another glance at his bike. Dried blood encrusted his torn shirt but there was no wound. Maybe it's from Midii's hand, he thought stupidly, his head aching and his eyes burning beneath the dark glasses, the headache making rational thought impossible. But no, Midii had only had a scratch. This was a lot of blood, thick and red and enough to stiffen the sweater he wore. He ran an exploring hand cautiously over his chest and abdomen but nothing hurt.   
  
He forgot the mysterious question of the origin of the blood on his shirt and the illogical misbehavior of his motorcycle when he heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle. The lighter the sky became the worse he felt. His entire being pinpointing on getting home, drawing the shades tightly and sleeping.  
  
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"Trowa! Oh God I've been so worried," Cathrine shouted anxiously out the door of the trailer before running outside. The sound of the approaching truck had alerted her to her brother's return, she had been on edge waiting for him with a heart full of terror as the night passed and he didn't come home.   
  
He merely snarled and pushed past her into the trailer, his bedroom door slamming behind him with terse finality. The snarl had been an odd greeting, even from her silent brother, Cathrine thought. And he had been so pale, deathly pale. She carefully pushed the door open and stepped into the dark room.  
  
"What happened," she whispered. It looked like he was already sleeping. He lay perfectly still, his skin gleaming sickly gray in the darkness and an arm flung over his face to ward off any light that might come into the room.  
  
Trowa felt calmer now that it was dark and quiet, enough like himself to consider his sister's feelings. "Sorry I worried you. I had a wreck, but I'm alright. The bike's totaled though."  
  
Cathrine's lip trembled but she restrained herself from scolding him. She could have lost him and that was something she couldn't bear. "Are you sure you're alright? Are you thirsty? Hungry?"  
  
"Thirsty," Trowa conceded, when she said the word it seemed so right, the perfect word. He was terribly thirsty.  
  
She hurried back with a tall glass of ice water, cool rivulets of moisture sweating down the sides of the glass. Trowa sat up and grabbed the glass, drinking voraciously, spilling it on himself before realizing suddenly that the water tasted awful. He got up and spit what was left in his mouth in the small sink in the corner of the room.  
  
"Where'd you get that water," he growled, launching the glass against the wall with a satisfying, shattering sound. "A drainage ditch? It tasted like rotten sewage."  
  
Cathrine took a step back as he glared at her, her violet eyes wide with surprise and hurt. He had never raised his voice to her before.  
  
"Sorry, Cathy," he managed, crawling back to bed. "I've just got a bad headache. I'm sorry, okay?"  
  
She nodded and backed out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind her.  
  
Uneasiness bordering on terror bubbled up inside Cathrine from deep inside. Unconsciously her right hand raised in an ancient gesture, her fingertips trembling as she softly touched her forehead, her chest and then her left and right shoulders in reverent succession. Childhood fears long buried and forgotten because of the real nightmare that was war started to resurface. She could feel her mother's arm cradling her closely as the old women of their circus troupe told horrible stories around the campfire. Stories that warned of making careless wishes and wanting things too much. So easily wishes could become curses.  
  
Cathrine shivered and dared to take another peek at her brother. He slept so still and silently that he looked dead and she shut the door quickly, not wanting to look. This couldn't be happening. The old stories were just stories and besides Trowa wasn't the type to make careless wishes or be overwhelmed with wanting something or someone. And then the thought came, like a presence in the room, fragile and flower-scented. Cathrine had a sudden vision of shining blue eyes, needy and hopeful. Eyes that followed her brother with open desire and longing. Everyone knew just how she felt, only one person seemed oblivious.  
  
Midii. Midii had done this. Of that one fact, Cathrine's sensitive gypsy blood was suddenly quite certain.  
  
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Next--Part Two: Dreams and Nightmares  
  



	2. Part Two: Dreams and Nightmares

Insatiable   
Part Two: Dreams and Nightmares   
  
Disclaimer: Trowa Barton, Midii Une, Episode Zero and Gundam Wing are the property   
of Sotsu Agency*Sunrise, etc. This story, like most of my others, is not for children, this   
one contains blood and evil! Inspired by a gorgeous piece of vampiric fanart by the   
talented Great Saiyagal. Check it out here—   
http://www.geocities.com/spysilencer/newmain.html   
  
By Midii Une   
  
When she moved in her sleep the ribbons of hair slid across her throat like   
strands of golden silk. Midii struggled restlessly with the twisted sheets, the   
morning racket her brothers made calling her from far away, pulling her rudely   
from the cloudy gray dream world and the last lingering embrace of night.   
  
Her blood seemed to tingle, as if it buzzed with the effects of some exotic drug.   
She had an unusual awareness of it hot and pulsating in the veins close   
beneath her skin. Trowa injected himself into her dream as she slid further   
beneath the blankets determined to stay with him this time, even in dreams he   
was always elusive and enigmatic, downright frustrating. It was different this   
time, his face became clearer, different somehow, the lines as perfect as if he   
were carved from the purest white marble and those eyes like jewels, but   
alive and burning with undisguised lust. Her breath caught in her throat and   
she felt trapped in morbid fascination as she stared into the deep green eyes   
that seemed like endless wells of turbulent water waiting to drown her.   
  
Someone was calling her name, desperately trying to get her attention but she   
hung onto the dream tightly. Long, white fingers reached for her throat, she   
could feel a touch as icy as that imagined hand from the grave stroking her   
skin. There was sticky liquid trickling down her neck and shoulders and her   
thumb started bleeding again from the place she had hurt it in the graveyard,   
dark red and seeping beneath the bandage.   
  
"Midiiiiiiiiiii!!! Wake up," a petulant, boyish voice called.   
  
He stepped back as his sister's eyes flew open and she grabbed convulsively   
at her throat.   
  
"Oh my God, oh God," she gasped breathlessly as her fingers trailed through   
cold sticky fluid that seemed to cling to her skin. Her eyes focused on her   
brother as her heartbeat came back under control, the dream adrenaline   
fading. The young boy stood looking at her with his shirt buttoned crookedly   
and a slopping glass of orange juice in his hand. She smelled the fruity   
fragrance everywhere and she could tell he'd spilled it on her when he was   
trying to wake her up.   
  
Damn, damn, damn, she thought, getting out of bed and pulling a robe over   
her nightgown. She'd dreamed that Trowa was finally looking at her as if he   
wanted to eat her up only to be rudely awakened to clean up a sticky mess.   
  
The every day flurry of feeding several younger brothers and getting herself to   
work doused the strangely erotic dream of Trowa in a flood of mundane little   
details.   
  
It wasn't until lunchtime under Hilde Schbeiker's relentless quest for gossip that   
she remembered to look at the bandage on her injured thumb. It had bled   
through again. Hilde shrugged off the little wound.   
  
"You must keep opening it when you use your hand," she said, barely glancing   
at it as she dug in her purse to find Midii a new bandage.   
  
"That's what Trowa said last night," Midii sighed.   
  
"Trowa?? You saw Trowa last night," Hilde pounced and leaned close to Midii   
over the table and whispered persuasively, "tell me everything."   
  
She wrinkled her nose as the other girl's face grew all dreamy.   
  
"You're too much," she said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "I hate to   
tell you this but he really doesn't know you're alive and the way you act like   
he's God's gift to women or something doesn't help. You should play hard to   
get."   
  
"He gave me a ride home last night," Midii protested, trying to deny the truth in   
Hilde's words.   
  
"And then what," Hilde snapped.   
  
Midii chewed her lip. Hilde was right, she was always right. He'd dropped her   
off and then nothing.   
  
She was saved from the embarrassing and inevitable confession by the timely   
arrival of Duo Maxwell, the self-styled God of Death who in peacetime had   
been relegated to filching French fries at lunchtime and generally being a   
cheerful playboy Preventer.   
  
He squeezed his chair in between the girls and promptly shoved the last   
quarter of Hilde's peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his mouth and mumbled   
frantically.   
  
"One more time hot shot," Hilde said, desperately trying to decipher his words.   
"Did you say you want to take us out tonight?"   
  
"Yup," Duo winked, sliding an experimental hand along the edge of Midii's skirt   
under the table enjoying the blush that crept up in her cheeks. "You girls look   
bored and I'm just the guy to put a little excitement in your lives."   
  
"I know," Hilde said, looking at Midii mischievously. "Why don't you invite   
Trowa to come along too?"   
  
"Hilde," Midii whispered violently, her blush deepening.   
  
Hilde was instantly sorry she'd brought Trowa up as it turned Duo's thoughts to   
her rival for his affections.   
  
"Great idea babe!! He can bring that gorgeous sister of his and she knows the   
owner down at the Club Crimson. I'll pick you ladies up at 9 and we'll meet   
them down there," Duo said before disappearing with a wink and a toss of his   
chestnut braid. They could hear him whistling the intro music to Cathrine's   
circus act as he went.   
  
"Damn," Midii and Hilde chorused together, glaring at each other.   
  
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Cathrine leaned forward slightly as she peered through the rain-streaked   
windshield to try to get a better view of the road before her. She hadn't   
wanted to go out tonight, she'd been unable to sleep for worry about Trowa.   
Duo had called and although that was usually a welcome interruption in her   
life she'd just been about to turn him down when Trowa appeared from his   
bedroom as suddenly and silently as a ghost. He'd taken the phone right out of   
her hand and uncharacteristically accepted Duo's invitation.   
  
That stupid, infatuated little Midii Une was sure to be there. Duo loved being   
surrounded by girls and Hilde and Midii trailed in his wake whenever he went   
clubbing. If she hadn't been so distracted by Trowa's odd behavior she would   
have felt satisfaction that the one Duo really wanted to be with was her but   
she had more important things on her mind than flirting with the braided hunk   
tonight. She had her sights set on Midii, she vowed to corner her at some point   
and find out exactly what she'd been doing in regards to her beloved brother.   
  
Thinking of him, she spared a glance at Trowa. He was staring intently at the   
raindrops as they slid with tantalizing slowness down the smooth wet glass. The   
brake lights of the cars in front of them turned the drops red as blood as they   
oozed along the foggy window. She thought she saw him moisten his pale lips   
with his tongue as he looked at the rain before shaking herself and placing her   
attention back on the road.   
  
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Duo, Hilde and Midii shivered beneath the overhang of the roof outside of   
Club Crimson, the cold torrents of rain sweeping beneath the paltry shelter   
with every gust of the October wind. Duo put his arms around the girls and   
pulled them closer, it looked as if he was trying to keep them warm but the two   
slender bodies actually provided him shelter from the cold and wet. Duo   
Maxwell, ever the gentleman, grinned to himself as he allowed let his fingers   
roam down to pinch Hilde's ass while his other hand accidentally grazed the   
exposed round swell that rose from the plunging neckline of Midii's dress.   
  
Midii pulled away, as if Duo's playful touch offended her. She stepped out into   
the rain with almost mechanical steps as if pulled by an unseen force. She   
stood in the full force of the storm, the wind tearing her shiny red vinyl raincoat   
open and blowing it back so it framed her figure swathed in clinging black   
velvet beneath. She threw her arms wide and tilted her face to the rain, the   
moisture instantly causing her black mascara to pool in sooty puddles beneath   
her eyes, making her look sad and tragic.   
  
A white face containing burning emerald eyes stared at her from across the   
street, he could see her heart beating and the throbbing pulse at the side of   
her neck despite the distance. His eyes narrowed as Duo and Hilde pulled her   
back beneath the roofline, the murmur of their scolding voices like the irritating   
buzzing of insignificant bugs.   
  
"Ugh, it's cold," Midii said dazedly, blinking her eyes slowly and shuddering.   
  
"No shit when you go out in the rain like that," Duo muttered, shaking his head   
and brushing the water from her drenched coat off himself.   
  
He forgot Midii's "blonde moment" and his violet eyes lit with childish glee, as   
Trowa and Cathrine appeared beside them.   
  
"Cathy-babe," he chortled happily, letting his gaze linger on her voluptuous   
figure. "You're looking good tonight! Gonna pull some strings and get your pal   
Duo in out of the rain?"   
  
He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, grimacing before he spoke.   
  
"You look like shit Trowa man," he said, possessively taking Cathrine's arm and   
pulling her close. "Pardon my saying so but you look like death warmed over.   
Maybe you really are sick today, maybe you shoulda stayed home."   
  
Midii missed Cathrine's glare and stared in lovestruck awe at the object of her   
desire. How could Duo say he looked bad, she wondered. Maybe a little pale,   
but that was probably because of the cold. The weather that had been so   
lovely last night had turned ferocious. His eyes were on her as well, the gaze   
like that of the man in her dream and she caught her breath as he seemed   
about to take her hand. Instead Hilde sighed loudly in annoyance and   
dragged her bemused friend in out of the rain before they got left behind.   
  
"Hey Hilde," several male voices chorused as soon as the small, dark-haired   
young woman stepped into the maelstrom of flashing red lights and throbbing   
sound. She grinned, it was a table full of former comrades from her OZ days,   
they were waving frantically for her to come and join them. There was no way   
she was going to sit with Duo if he was going to ogle Cathrine Bloom all night.   
No use letting the night become a total waste and it would be a great   
opportunity for Midii to start showing Trowa he wasn't the only man alive.   
  
"Let's tell Duo we're ditching his party," Hilde whispered to Midii, leaning in   
close to be heard over the pulsating rhythm. "I've had it with him."   
  
Midii nodded half-heartedly and they squeezed their way to the table where   
Duo sat next to Cathrine his arm resting on the back of her chair and his fingers   
toying with her bouncy auburn curls.   
  
Hilde opened her mouth to give Duo a piece of her mind but Trowa beat her to   
the punch, rising from his chair with his usual elegance of movement that   
seemed somehow eerily enhanced. Midii looked like she was about to melt   
into a puddle and even Hilde had to admit to herself that he did seem more   
interested than usual.   
  
The thirst he had seemed to feel since waking up in the cemetery that morning   
seemed to intensify as she walked up to the table, the flashing red lights that   
gave Club Crimson it's rather obvious name caressed her milky skin and cast   
enticing shadows around her throat. He wanted to see all of her and it didn't   
matter that they were surrounded by people, she was the only one in the room   
for him.   
  
He stepped toward her and slowly eased the bright scarlet raincoat off, letting   
it drop to the floor. The tight black velvet dress that molded to her body like a   
glove and blood-red lipstick made her parted lips look like an opening rose.   
An ebony cross rested on the soft pale skin between her small breasts. The   
smear of black mascara beneath her eyes made them look deep and endless   
but he ignored all these things to let his eyes trace a pale violet vein that   
pulsed gently beneath her skin.   
  
Midii felt her heart skip a beat, he was touching her face with his fingertips and   
staring at her so hard, as if he'd never really seen her before. She made a soft   
little sound and leaned forward as his hand traveled along the side of her neck   
and stroked the skin that stretched tautly over her collarbone.   
  
She would taste so good beneath his lips, sweet and warm, her body pressed   
so close, he could feel how it would be her heart pounding so fast, then slow,   
then stopping . . .   
  
"He's going to kiss me," she thought, a shiver of delight coursing over her body   
as she shut her eyes. His other hand was exploring her face now and she   
made a soft sound of ecstasy, oblivious to the show they were putting on for   
the others in their group. Midii felt his grip tighten on the little chain that held   
the ebony cross she wore and she swallowed, he was so gentle but she knew   
that he was so powerful beneath the façade as if their were restrained   
violence and passion hidden behind the mask he wore. She gasped and   
opened her eyes as she felt a sharp tug and her throat burned with quick   
searing pain.   
  
He had stepped away from her and was looking at her in the same old way, as   
if she were glass and he could see right through her at something more   
interesting. He opened his hand and the little black ebony cross was nothing   
but powder. It spilled to the floor like so much sparkling dust.   
  
"You shouldn't wear crosses, they carry bad memories," he said, turning away   
from her, his hands shaking. He had seen it there as he peered through his   
lashes at her skin so close beneath his lips. It was so black against the   
whiteness of her skin and it brought back memories in a rushing, unstoppable   
tide of alien emotion.   
  
But he'd lied. The memories weren't bad and they were more like feelings.   
She was someone he never wanted to hurt yet he could have ripped into her   
in front of all those people, torn her throat out and . . .   
  
"Excuse me," he muttered, making a pretense of going to the bar and ordering   
a drink.   
  
"What a jerk," Hilde sputtered, staring from him to Midii, whose face showed   
shock and confusion. Several rubies of bright red blood beaded on her neck   
where Trowa had ripped her necklace off.   
  
"Pretty weird," Duo agreed. "Even for Trowa."   
  
Hilde rounded on him, her blue eyes sparking fire. "You're a jerk too! Come on   
Midii let's go to the girls' room and check that scratch."   
  
She took hold of the other girl's hand and dropped it. Blood had leaked from   
the small gash on her thumb and streaked her palm like crimson tears. She was   
starting to think Midii should have gotten stitches in that stupid cut; it kept   
bleeding all the time.   
  
"Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed. I just want to go home Hilde. He hates me,   
he'll always hate me. What was I thinking," Midii said, staring at herself in the   
mirror as Hilde dabbed at the blood on her neck with a wet tissue.   
  
"Just because Trowa and Duo are jerks doesn't mean we can't have a good   
time," Hilde said stubbornly as Midii tried to repair her eye makeup. "A bunch of   
my old friends are here, guys who used to be OZ cadets that work for   
Preventers now. Come on, it'll be fun. Still, I can't believe how Trowa acted   
and to think I used to have a crush on him! We're through with those guys   
Midii, we'll find a new crowd."   
  
"I'm a stupid fool," Midii continued ranting, glaring at herself in the mirror with   
self-hatred. "I made a wish yesterday, an impossible wish. All I ever wanted is   
for Trowa to love me, to need me like I need him. I should have known it could   
never happen. Why couldn't I see?"   
  
Cathrine stood just inside the door, her head reeling with Midii's words. What   
had that girl's desperation led her to? She had always considered her   
obsession with her brother harmless but something was wrong, horribly wrong.   
He'd slept the day away, as silent and still as a corpse and he hadn't eaten for   
hours. The gypsy tales of her childhood about the power of wishes and curses   
spun in her head as she stared at the oblivious blonde girl.   
  
Midii and Hilde turned, hearing the soft sound of dismay from the doorway.   
  
Midii flushed bright red, her face burning hot, wishing she could sink through   
the floor. Now Cathrine knew about her foolish, desperate wish. A wish that   
would never come true. She'd be sure to tell Trowa and he'd think even less   
of her than he did now.   
  
Cathrine grabbed for Midii's arm as Hilde pulled her out the door, trying to   
convince her all she needed was a stiff drink.   
  
"Midii! It's important, we need to talk. What did you do? What did you do to   
my brother," Cathrine hissed, grabbing Midii's arm and digging her brightly   
painted nails into the other girl's soft skin.   
  
"Back off, Trowa's the one that hurt her, not the other way around," Hilde said,   
part of her anger due to the fact that Cathrine had distracted Duo from her   
tonight.   
  
Duo squirmed uncomfortably as Cathrine glared daggers at Midii and Hilde as   
they parted at the ladies room door. He liked Hilde, he really did, but could he   
help it if he preferred Cathy? She was just so damn sexy. Why couldn't they all   
have a good time together just because he preferred one girl over the other?   
And Trowa hadn't helped by buttering up Midii then slamming the door in her   
face. That had been really cold.   
  
Finally the other Gundam pilot returned from the bar. He held a glass of Merlot   
that he obviously hadn't tasted a sip since the red liquid swayed dangerously   
back and forth near to overflowing. Trowa had natural grace however and   
only a few drops of the wine spilled on the white tablecloth. He saw again the   
drops of blood on Midii's throat, the hurt in her eyes, his hand gripped the   
fragile glass tightly until it shattered, spraying the wine over the table along   
with shards of crystal.   
  
"Oh Trowa! Are you okay," Cathrine cried, jumping up and prying his hand   
open. She gasped, he was perfectly fine, not a scratch on his hand although   
Duo was yelping as he pricked his finger after trying to brush up the mess.   
Trowa stared at him as he popped a bloody finger in his mouth and sucked on   
the wound.   
  
"What's up with you tonight, Tro," Duo asked as Cathrine hurried to the bar to   
get a rag to clean up with. "Do you like Midii or not? It wouldn't take much   
effort for you to get laid here pal. She really likes you. Hilde told me all about it.   
Still there's no call to be nasty to the girl if you don't like her. You could do   
worse, I've given her a try and she's really sweet. Tasty dish, y'know?"   
  
Trowa ignored Duo, whose finger had stopped bleeding, and let his eyes   
follow Midii's movements. He stared at her wanting her to look at him but she   
only spared him a glance before turning away and lifting her chin haughtily.   
Hilde pulled her out on the dance floor with her and it wasn't long before the   
two of them had attracted partners from the table where Hilde's old friends   
sat.   
  
Duo sighed.   
  
"I really don't get you man, you're staring at her like she's the best thing on the   
dessert tray but you're not making your move."   
  
Trowa glared and Duo turned away first although he'd stared down the best   
death glare he'd ever come up against in Heero Yuy. Tonight Trowa was   
downright scary. He got up with a muttered excuse and tracked down   
Cathrine came back and he took her out to dance, sitting next to Trowa was   
giving him the creeps.   
  
With Cathrine in his arms Duo quickly forgot his misgivings about Trowa's bizarre   
behavior. She was holding on tight and the way her body moved when she   
danced was more intoxicating than wine. He tightened his arms around her   
tentatively, grinning with satisfaction as she clung tighter to him in return and   
he felt her molded against him, the softness of her crushed suggestively against   
him and her breath warm against his ear.   
  
"Oh Duo, you have to help me," she whispered urgently. "I'm so worried   
about Trowa."   
  
"Forget about him tonight," Duo said, anxious for to take advantage of   
Cathrine's odd compliancy. She was usually so feisty and something of a   
tease. Tonight she didn't seem to mind his inappropriate advances.   
  
She shivered and he stroked her cheek comfortingly, landing a kiss right behind   
the tender touch and following it up with another.   
  
"Mmmmmmmmm," Duo groaned as her mouth opened tentatively beneath his,   
the movement of her soft lips encouraging him further.   
  
"I'm going to need your help in this Duo," Cathrine thought as she lost herself in   
his strong, warm embrace. There was going to be a battle ahead. A battle for   
her brother's very soul and she needed an ally. But there was something else   
too, the easy attraction she felt for the fun-loving Gundam pilot was becoming   
something more serious.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Trowa swirled his finger through the spilled wine, he didn't want to eat or drink.   
Duo had discarded a basket of chicken wings and nachos but the food   
seemed as unappealing as the water Cathrine had given him to drink this   
morning. He felt like he was dying inside and Midii was the cure. His feelings   
for her had taken on an urgency that ripped through his soul and seemed like   
they would tear him apart.   
  
Did what he felt for her have a name, was it one of the emotions that Duo and   
Cathy and other people felt and expressed so easily? Midii was a riddle from   
the moment he saw her. She was someone he was supposed to kill, someone   
he was trained to kill, an intruder, a spy, a traitor but his heart refused to obey   
common sense and asserted itself as it never had before. There was a person   
inside him, the soldier's alter ego, that had always wanted to protect her from   
that very first moment.   
  
That person was still there and he realized that what he felt did have a name.   
  
Love.   
  
"Too late," he thought. "What were you waiting for? Did you expect her just to   
exist in a void without emotion like you until you came to your senses?"   
  
Too late, too late because now he had changed, something had altered in him   
since the accident in the graveyard and she had become mixed up in it. Duo's   
phone call earlier that evening had shaken him out of a dream of blood and   
death so real that he had almost screamed with the horror of it.   
  
She and Hilde moved with easy grace, their skin flushed with the heat and   
energy of dancing. A man he recognized from headquarters handed Midii a   
drink before circling around her and pulling her back against him, his face   
pressed against the softness of her hair, the tip of his nose nuzzling the fragile   
skin of her throat. Trowa's vision seemed to zoom in, he could see each black   
eyelash as she closed her eyes and rested back against her partner. He saw in   
perfect detail the dark stain beneath her eyes from the mascara that had run   
in the rain, the parted lips of her red mouth and the man's lips taking   
advantage of the smooth flesh so close. She was so trusting, sweet, Duo said.   
Was that how she would taste? He could imagine the softness of her skin   
beneath his own lips, his teeth grazing at that delicate pale flesh until blood ran   
down in crimson rivulets. He knew the taste, hot and distinctive, she had   
gotten her blood on his face before the accident. He would close his mouth   
over the wound, he could hear her make a sound of pained surprise then her   
thudding heartbeat in his ears, fast and frightened then slow and sluggish.   
  
He stood up so fast that the stool he'd been sitting on crashed to the floor. With   
a swirl of his coat he seemed to disappear into the darkness.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Hilde's plan wasn't working, Midii thought as she danced mindlessly, playing   
the fiasco with Trowa over and over in her mind. It seemed for a moment as if   
he'd been watching her but then he had left. She remembered the previous   
evening in the graveyard and closed her eyes. She had wished that he loved   
her, wished that he needed her. So much for wishes, it seemed like every   
hope of being with him was futile. She had known it as a child but the final   
realization was finally sinking in. He couldn't love her or anyone it seemed. His   
emotions were a casualty of war, used up by the overwhelming sorrow of an   
abandoned child. She let Hilde's friend Willem Van Zehn spin her expertly,   
she'd seen him at the office, blonde hair, blue eyes, wholesome good looks   
and no mystery that he was definitely attracted to her. She rested her head on   
his shoulder sighing, she was so tired, tired of being alone, tired of struggling for   
Trowa to notice her.   
  
"He doesn't know you're alive," Hilde had said.   
  
Her stubborn hope still resisted surrender. There had been something different   
tonight and there was one other thing that Midii knew was true. She had   
shared kisses and touches with other men, Duo sometimes after one drink too   
many, and even Van Zehn tonight. If Trowa's emotions were a casualty of war   
then that meant for her as well that a life with love in it was not in the cards.   
From the very first moment it had only been him for her and there could be no   
substitute.   
  
"Thank you but I think I'm going to call it a night," Midii told her partner, putting   
distance between herself and the tall blonde man.   
  
She looked around for Hilde but she was very occupied with a man she'd told   
Midii had been her unit chief on L2 back when she first met Duo during the   
war. He was a nice-looking man with wavy brown hair who always wore a   
serious expression and he seemed to think the world of Hilde. It seemed after   
Duo's latest hijinks with Cathrine that Hilde was regaining her interest in her   
former commanding officer.   
  
"How are you going to get home," Van Zehn asked. He could see Midii   
scanning the dance floor for her friends and he thought that if she didn't want   
to dance anymore there was no reason their evening should end. He'd seen   
her around the halls at work; she was an ex-Alliance spy whose talents were   
being wasted in the word processing department because she insisted on   
being stationed at the French bureau here in Paris. He didn't think she would   
be averse to getting to know him a little better. It was a cold night out and if   
he took her home there'd be plenty of opportunity for a cuddle or even more.   
  
Midii read the thoughts in his eyes easily.   
  
"I'll get home fine on my own," she assured him. He leaned in close and she let   
him kiss her goodnight, testing her theory. She felt nothing as he kissed her   
expertly, just the right mixture of firmness and softness in his lips, mouth slightly   
open but no tongue on the first try. There wouldn't be a second. After tonight   
she felt dead inside, barely feeling the cold as she walked out alone to find the   
nearest Metro station to take her home.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
The young man's breath misted around him, it was after midnight and cold.   
He'd ended up alone the night wasted on a girl that however pretty had   
turned out to be as cold as the weather. Sad really, but it seemed like since   
the war more and more people turned out like her, people who merely moved   
through the world instead of living. He'd been watching her awhile and   
thought she'd been different.   
  
Van Zehn tightened his jacket around himself, watching his buddy Jamie Hunter   
walk off down the street with Hilde. He wished them luck, Hunter had been   
mooning over Hilde since the war and she was a girl who looked like she still   
knew how to live. If only Midii, the girl he'd danced with tonight, was more   
like her. It was as if something had come over her out on the dance floor and   
suddenly her heart wasn't in the evening anymore. He could still smell the   
scent of her on his clothes and a few strands of long blonde hair clung to his   
dark jacket and he wished things could have turned out differently.   
  
He turned suddenly, startled. It felt like someone was watching him from the   
shadows but when he turned to look no one was there. There was no telltale   
mist of breath in the frigid night to show that anyone had been. His heart   
thudded in panic as he turned back to walk away only to come face to face   
with a tall, forbidding figure. Van Zehn flushed and stuttered a terse greeting.   
It was embarrassing to be caught by surprise like this by a superior officer.   
  
It was the former Gundam pilot with the piercing green eyes, the one who   
always completed every mission as efficiently and emotionlessly as a robot.   
  
"Where's Midii," Barton asked and Van Zehn had a flash of memory. Earlier   
that night he'd seen Midii with him. Remembered how odd it was that he just   
dropped her coat on the dirty floor and she had just stood there, totally   
entranced.   
  
"She went home," Van Zehn said, taking a step back. Barton was   
uncomfortably close and seemed to be trying to stare a hole through him.   
Maybe he'd read Midii wrong after all. Maybe she and this guy were involved   
and tonight had been some little lovers' spat. God he hoped not, he'd hate to   
be on a Gundam pilot's wrong side.   
  
"Good, she'll be safe at home," Trowa said softly, so softly that Van Zehn had to   
strain to hear him. He wanted to run, he had to fight the urge his body was   
planting in him to flee. A base instinct formed when some ancient ancestor   
had faced a wildly dangerous carnivore and just as appropriate at this   
moment although Van Zehn didn't realize it until it was too late.   
  
Trowa's eyes slid to the man's throat, he saw Midii before him, saw her as she   
had looked when his hands slid her coat off and touched the velvet dress and   
her even softer skin. The soft female fragrance rising from her hair and her skin   
and the fluttering pulse beating in her neck, slow and steady. The pulse in the   
man's neck was fast and frightened, it beat harder and faster as he sunk his   
teeth into the tender skin and drew out the blood in voracious, insatiable gulps,   
the scent of Midii filling his head.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Midii rushed along the strangely quiet and deserted halls of the Preventer   
Headquarters in the ///district. She took a discreet sip of her coffee as she   
headed for her cubicle. Was she really that late, she wondered. Sleep, when   
it had finally come, had been full of disturbingly erotic dreams and the scratch   
on her throat from her broken necklace stung painfully as she walked.   
  
People were staring at her as she slipped into her chair and her vidcom was   
beeping insistently. She pushed the button and found herself staring at a pale,   
wild-eyed Hilde.   
  
"Oh Midii, I'm so relieved to see you. Did you hear what happened last night.   
It's so horrible," Hilde said, speaking quickly, her words a jumble.   
  
"I was late I didn't turn on the news this morning," Midii said. "What   
happened?"   
  
"That guy you were dancing with last night was murdered right outside the   
club! I'm so glad you got home alright, they're saying it must have happened   
right after you left him," Hilde said. "It was awful, his throat was ripped out as if   
he was attacked by an animal and he bled to death."   
  
Midii gasped and put her hand to her own throat, shaking her head in disbelief.   
  
Duo hesitated in the doorway. Midii was the last one who'd positively seen   
that dead guy last night. He wished like hell that Heero and Wufei weren't   
posted to space headquarters right now. He didn't want to play the bad guy.   
He liked her, but he couldn't let it stop him from finding out what had   
happened last night.   
  
He took a deep breath and stepped inside, his violet eyes sober and serious.   
She could so very easily have killed that guy for making a wrong move, she   
looked fragile and helpless but that wasn't necessarily true. She'd fought in the   
war just like the rest of them and her record showed she could be just as   
deadly when provoked.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
  
Next—Insatiable Part 3: Life and Death


	3. Part Three: Life and Death

Author's Note:  This fic was on a depressing hiatus until but I always had my mind on the goal of at least finishing what was started Halloween 2001 by Halloween 2002 and had bits and pieces of inspiration all through the year.  Thanks to those who encouraged me to continue this story.  WARNING:  This is a HORROR story, beware of death, blood, the grotesque and angst, I love this holiday and ended up going a bit over the top…3xMU, 2xCB

Insatiable

Part Three: Life and Death 

By Midii Une

Cathrine sat at the kitchen table clutching a sunny yellow coffee mug tightly in both hands.  She lifted her head and stared at Trowa through the mist of steam that rose up from the hot liquid and smiled.  He was better.  She had had no reason to worry after all.  She grinned in relief as she saw him pad across the kitchen floor in his bare feet, looking sleepy and normal like any other morning.  His cheeks were flushed with health and she grabbed at his hand and squeezed it as he gave her curls a quick, affectionate tug.

"Let me make you some breakfast," she offered jumping up to pull her skillet from the cupboard, as he walked to the window.

He was silent so long that her happiness soured like a pail of fresh milk on a warm, sultry day and her worry returned  slamming into her gut and make her heartbeat stutter with foreboding.

"Trowa?"

He turned immediately, hearing her desperate little whisper as easily as if she'd shouted his name.  He reached back and pulled down the shade.  

"No thanks, Cathy.  Not hungry," he answered, but his eyes were distant.

She was still standing holding the skillet thoughtfully when he emerged from his room fully dressed in his Preventer uniform, so intent on his destination that the door slammed behind him.  

Cathrine set down the skillet.

He hadn't said goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Please Duo, I told you I went right home last night.  It was cold and raining so I never turned around to look behind me," Midii explained.

"Did anyone see you on the Metro then, just one person," Duo persisted, this was hard, his heart wasn't in it and she seemed so sincere.  

"It was nearly 2 in the morning," she said, burying her face in her hands.  "I was the only one in the car.  I want to go home now Duo, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Oh sorry," Duo said, clearing his throat and reaching forward quickly to gather up the crime scene pictures depicting Van Zehn's remains that he had laid out on her desk.  Pretty grisly stuff come to think of it, he admitted silently, hastily pocketing the images as he saw the horrifying white gleam of bone and the wet torn muscles in the man's mutilated throat.

"Just give me one name, maybe one of your brothers saw you come home and can verify your story--," 

"What are you doing here Duo," Trowa interrupted, appearing silently between them.

Duo looked up with a mixture of relief and annoyance.  He hated the cool, smooth, smug tone Trowa's voice held sometimes.   Once Trowa'd been beating the hell out of him in a game of chess and his voice had been just like it was now, emotionless but if you listened hard enough slightly patronizing.

"Trowa," Midii gasped, lifting her face from her hands to reveal shining steel-gray eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

He ignored the teary-eyed girl and concentrated on Duo.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on," Trowa prodded.  "This place is buzzing about something."

Duo shrugged and handed Trowa the last pictures ever taken of one Willem Van Zehn.  His face remained blank as he looked at the images for a long moment before crumpling them in his hand.

"Hey!" Duo protested.

"You showed these to Midii? What were you thinking," Trowa asked.

"I was thinking what any normal person would think! She was the last person to see this guy alive.  She knows something," Duo answered, his violet eyes snapping angrily.  He was really getting tired of being picked on here.  

Trowa laughed, the sound was startling and without mirth, a humorless outburst that filled the room with harsh sound.

"I don't see the joke," Duo muttered,  scowling.  He agreed with Heero, who had once said that when Trowa laughed it was more frightening than funny.

But Trowa was ignoring him now, his eyes were fastened on Midii with the same intense light she had seen in them last evening at the club.  Her body swayed toward his and he put his arm around her shoulders drawing her close and kissing her, nuzzling the warm skin behind her ear.  She shivered with delight and let herself lean into him so he supported nearly all her weight and she felt his arm tighten to accommodate her.

"Why didn't you tell Duo you were with me last night," he said, gazing into her eyes.  "Don't tell me you've forgotten already."

"With you," Midii repeated in a puzzled voice.  But it had been a dream, only a dream.  She started shaking and he pulled her closer so she could hide her face in his chest.

"Isn't she _sweet_," Trowa said to Duo, mimicking his words from the night before.  "And so shy…"

Midii flushed, what was he saying?  It was a dream, it had to be, she had been lying on a bed surrounded by candles and misty white drapery, and he had knelt over her holding her in a hungry, needy gaze.  He'd trailed the petals of a long-stemmed red rose across her skin until she thought she would go mad with desire.  She had whispered the words she had thought in her heart in the graveyard a few nights ago…

_"If only you needed me. Needed me or you couldn't live, if I was like your very heart, your very blood."___

But that hadn't been real, just a dream, a fantasy….

Duo left, slamming the door behind him and making a sound of disgust.  As if the sound broke a spell Trowa let go of Midii so fast she had to catch herself on the back of her chair to keep from falling.

"Why did you lie to Duo," she asked.  "Trowa, what's happening?"

He looked at her briefly, as if he didn't trust himself to look closer.  His skin had gone gray and his hands trembled as he reached for the sunglasses he kept hidden in his pocket.

"He won't bother you any more," he said simply, then turned and left.

Midii collapsed into her chair and lay her head on her arms.  He was driving her insane, his attitude changing from one second to the next.  She lifted her head from her arms and saw the rose from the dream laid on top of the stack of papers neatly piled in her in basket.

"What does it mean Trowa?  Am I losing my mind," she whispered, picking up the flower and trailing the satin petals slowly along the curve of her throat as her phantom lover had done in her fantasy.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Cathrine paused outside the dingy little store front.  Guilt assailed her, she had not visited old Agatha the circus's gypsy fortuneteller for more than a year.  When the old lady had retired she had promised to visit often and keep in touch.  She had done it only once, bringing flowers and soup to the frail woman who must by now be near 90.  It was so selfish to come here now, now when she needed help.  But for Trowa, her dearest little brother Triton, she would be selfish, she would do anything.

Dust lay thick on the cluttered curiosities that the old gypsy crone had collected over a long and eventful lifetime.  Grimy strands of beads that had once glittered and clicked at the front of a brightly painted booth looked pitiful and deteriorated as they hung now like cobwebs in a narrow doorway and Cathrine shuddered.  Perhaps she should not have come.  Cathy reached out a hand to touch the beads and a faded voice called out.   Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and ducked through the tangled strands of beads.  Cathrine glanced around in dismay as some of the old beads fell to the floor and rolled into the dusty corners of the dark little room lit only by a dim candle.  

Agatha sat there in a rocker before a low table.  Her long gray hair was swathed in a red veil gaudily decorated with shiny gold coins and she was huddled in a bright purple shawl thick with swaying fringe.

"So you keep your promise to visit at last," the old lady hissed through nearly toothless gums.  "There is something you want bad, isn't there pretty little Cathrine?"

The young circus performer knelt penitently by the old lady's knees, feeling the curious touch of the gnarled old fingers on her smooth cheek.  "I'm sorry Agatha.  I should have come sooner.  Forgive me!"

The old lady shrugged.  She didn't mind being alone, her eyes, though almost blind, were far-seeing and she was never really lonely.  

"Something's wrong with Trowa," Cathrine moaned, laying her head on the old woman's lap.  "I know it.  There's a girl—"

Agatha frowned, she knew Cathrine had a strong attachment to her brother, perhaps too strong.  She had known young Triton still lived after the accident claimed Cathrine's parents, but she had been as surprised as any of their circus family when he came back to them.   They all shared the same Romany Gypsy blood that had flowed in the veins of circus people for ages and generations, it was a powerful connection between them.  Sometimes the future kept itself shadowed even from her.  She did know that the Blooms seemed to attract tragedy, and it seemed now fate was not done toying with them.

She doubted she could help, but she would try.  This girl's love for her brother was a _good_ force.  For that she would try.  
  


"Shut your eyes tightly and see them, envision the boy and the girl," the old woman whispered to Cathrine, her voice was soft but held an air of command that was impossible to resist.

The gypsy's purple-veined, wrinkled lids closed over her deeply sunken eyes and the mist began to clear until she could see what the young woman before her saw.  A tall young man stood with his back to her and there was a girl beside him, she could see the pretty, delicate profile of her face.

"Let me see you now," her thoughts whispered to the girl, the symbolism of their poses had told her _she_ would be the one more open to her intrusion.  Slowly the girl turned to face her fully, an invisible storm wrapping her long blonde hair to shroud her face before it was pushed back revealing the figure's hidden inner thoughts to the ancient fortuneteller.

Emotions washed over the jaded old gypsy like waves crashing on a rocky beach, the water spreading out and seeping between the dull gray pebbles.  Her breath caught with the intensity of the feelings as she saw the familiar boy through the eyes of a young girl.  He was handsome, so handsome, his features graced with a wild beauty that made her heart ache.  The girl's desire was so strong, it seemed to dominate her every thought, her every wish.  Lust and need pulsed through her veins with every heartbeat. Cathrine winced and gasped aloud as she felt her fingers clenched painfully in the old woman's grasp.

"Tragedy…" the old woman groaned in a thickly-accented voice.  "She is headstrong and impatient, a selfish child who cannot wait for her heart's desire.  So young,  so stupid…"

Cathrine's eyes opened, wide with terror.  "No, she can't hurt Trowa, I won't let her—

Her words were cut off and she lifted trembling fingers to touch her throbbing cheek wonderingly.  Agatha had slapped her sharply across the face with a strength her age had well concealed.  Cathrine swallowed the rancid taste of fear as she faced a glowing pair of eyes that blazed with a terrifying anger.

"What-what happened," she murmured, dazed.

"You broke the connection," Agatha scolded, closing eyes that were heavy with exhaustion from her exertion.

"Yes," Cathrine said, her voice suddenly unrepentant and strong as she leapt to her feet, her slight figure shaking with barely-restrained rage.  "But I was right.  It's all her fault, all Midii's fault.  I saw them, you saw them and you heard her thoughts.   She is selfish, she is—

"She is a child, a poor tragic child," the gypsy sighed heavily, shaken by what she had seen, by the powerful devastation that could be caused something as wondrous and beautiful as love itself.  "You should not judge so harshly my pretty one.   It is a hard thing to wait for love that seems it will never come and the young do not trust time."

The old woman stared into the flame, she already knew how things would fall out, but her soul shuddered as Cathrine spoke the fateful words.  As impatient in her own way as the girl in the vision.

"Tell me," the younger girl pleaded, her heart in her throat.  "Tell me how to stop this thing and get my brother back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hilde found Midii staring miserably out the window when she stopped by to go out for lunch that day.

She put a concerned hand on the other girl's shoulder, feeling a burst of pity for her friend.  Frankly, she had never seen even Midii look quite this dejected.  

"Are you upset about Willem? I'm so sorry that happened to you Midii.  You barely knew him but still, to have him so horribly murdered," Hilde said consolingly, trying to coax Midii out of her funk.

"I'm sorry about him too," Midii sighed, turning at last.  "But I can't stop thinking about Trowa.  Hilde what's wrong with me?  A man is dead, a man I liked very much, but all I can think about is Trowa.  He was here today and he said things…"

Hilde noticed the rose in her hand, the scarlet petals were lush and opulent as the tightly-closed petals began opening in the warm room.

"Did Trowa give you that," Hilde asked, touching the rose carefully.

Midii nodded.

Hilde looked thoughtful.  She took a deep breath and took the plunge, when she was wrong she was the first to admit it.

"Maybe he _does_ care for you after all," she said.  "I think he just doesn't know how to show it.  Go find him Midii.  Go home and change into something sexy.  Push him over the edge."

A conspiratorial smile passed between the two young women.

"Wish me luck," Midii whispered fervently.  "It's all or nothing this time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duo brooded, sitting sulkily on the dilapidated sofa.  He didn't like being made a fool of, not by Trowa Barton, not by anyone.  Something strange was going on and Midii was mixed up in it, and Trowa too.  A man was dead, a Preventer, and Trowa had lied about being with Midii.  The guy had always been weird but lately being around Trowa made all the little hairs on the back of Duo's neck stand up.  He paced restlessly and paused by the window, brown leaves skittered past making rustling sounds on the sidewalk, dancing along in the fading sunshine.  Even this cheerful autumn scene gave him the creeps.  The war was over and he played now at happiness, but he really wasn't happy.

The doorbell buzzed softly and Duo shook himself out of his uncharacteristic malaise and jumped nimbly over a pile of discarded pizza boxes to answer the door.

Cathrine was framed in the doorway a vision in a tight red sweater and a pair of snug faded blue jeans.  She was holding her hand out to him and in the other she held a heavy-looking wicker picnic basket.

And suddenly life was good again.

As they drove along the pretty country road out away from the congestion of the city he glanced over at her , wondering if she was really the answer to the turmoil in his heart.  He admitted he had always been jealous of Trowa.  What orphan boy didn't dream of finding a wonderful big sister who loved him and cooked for him and fussed over him?  Could Cathrine be the reward for all he had missed in life, family and most of all love?  He admired the voluptuous curves outlined by the tight, low-cut sweater.  He shook his head and grinned.  Cathy was as sweet and wonderful as the only person who had ever truly loved him.  But unlike his beloved Sr. Helen Cathrine Bloom had the power to make him think such delightfully sinful thoughts.  He didn't want her as mother or sister that was certain. 

As he thought this, Cathrine reached over and curled her hand into his and he closed his fingers gently over hers.  For once he had no words, he only squeezed the warm hand he held and turned his eyes back on the road, a genuinely happy smile on his face.

"Pull in here," she said softly as they approached a quiet, overgrown drive.  

"Your wish is my command ma belle mademoiselle," he grinned, as she laughed at his bad French accent.

He helped her out of the car and looked around.  He wasn't much on scenery but wow, this place was just pretty.  Grand old trees, the leaves flaming with autumn color and an endless blue sky.  Quatre was always going on and on about he beauty of Earth. Hell, he should see this picnic spot, Duo thought.  A little white picket fence surrounded the hill topped with gleaming marble crosses.  Marble crosses engraved with names. He did a double-take.  She'd brought him to a cemetery for a picnic?

"Whoa Cathy," Duo said, tugging on the slender hand he held in his.  "I don't do picnics in cemeteries.  Maybe your brother told you I went by the name the God of Death in the war but this really isn't my style."

Cathrine grabbed his arms desperately and pushed herself close, snuggling pleadingly against his chest.

"Come on," Duo insisted. "We'll find another place, maybe a vineyard where we can get a bottle of wine. But this place is just morbid."

He wanted to say it was evil, the word seemed to pound in his brain and she wasn't moving.  She stood her ground as he tried to persuade her to get back in the car.

Her violet eyes gleamed softly in the sharp autumn sunlight.  "Are you afraid?  I want to stay Duo.  Stay with me," she tiptoed and whispered in his ear, her fingers tangled in his long braid of hair and held him fast as she brushed her lips against his ear and trailed a kiss over his cheek and down to meet his lips with her own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind blew cold around her ankles as she stood outside Trowa's door indecisively.  She pushed experimentally at the door and to her surprise it opened at her touch, as if the very wood knew her, was waiting for her to come.  He was standing there on the other side as she'd known he would be.  Hilde was so right to make her come to settle things between them once and for all.

They stood staring at each other.  She drank in the sight of him, loose pants slung low on his hips, a wrinkled white shirt hanging off his shoulders that he'd hastily thrown on in answer to her timid knock.  Nanashi, Trowa, the boy she had always, always loved.

"Go away Midii," he ordered, his voice strained.  He refused to look at her and he barred her from coming any further into the room.

"I love you," she protested, flinging herself at him, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss his pale lips.

"Get out of here Midii, I don't want you here," he said again, but his voice trembled a bit and she shook her head in stubborn refusal.

"Stop playing with me, there's something happening between us I can feel it.  Why are you torturing me?"

He slammed the door shut suddenly and  shoved her hard against it, squeezing her wrists in his hands and her eyes welled with hurt, frustrated tears.

"I love you," she said again as the tears fell, tracing a glittering path down her rosy, wind-kissed cheeks.  "Why are you trying to make me hate you?"

He closed his eyes and she held her breath.  When he opened them she could see cold green fire burning in his eyes and she was afraid.  A cold wind blew in through the open window making the curtains dance and blowing papers noisily around the little room, knocking over Cathy's fragile glass knick-knacks and crashing them to the floor.  Then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, she could feel his open mouth seeking the taste of her tears and there was a trickle of warmth on her throat and a deep, painful longing as the wound he had made on her neck at Club Crimson started to bleed fat drops of scarlet blood.

Midii moaned hungrily, she wanted him, had wanted him so long and still his mouth lingered on her face until she slumped forward against him as he pinned her back against the door with his weight.

Her tears were hot and salty, so delicious mixed with the taste of her skin.  He could smell her blood as he pressed his mouth harder to his face, he was barely still Trowa at all as he let his teeth graze her cheekbone with sudden sharp intensity and fastened his mouth against the wound as a small amount of blood began to flow.

She gasped in surprised shock and pain, he drew back his head and smiled at her; a thin, terrible smile and she opened her mouth to scream but he closed his mouth over hers kissing her roughly until she could taste her own blood in her mouth.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice stuttering and tiny with fright.

"Why did you come," he answered, almost regretfully, "I told you to go…

Midii started shaking and whimpering and his eyes hardened, he thrust an open hand over her face and mouth pushing her back against the door, twisting her head and baring her long white throat to his gaze.  Drops of blood drew his eye to the target and he touched his tongue to the blood, making her shiver with desire despite her terror as he kissed and bit softly at her throat until finally he drew away from her, holding her close against him for a second.

"It's over, he's stopped," Midii thought with a mixture of relief and disappointment, her thudding heart loud against his still chest.

The crushing force of  his hand on her mouth stifled her screams as he bit down again hard, tearing open her throat, ripping the muscles and cracking the thin bones and ligaments.  Trowa felt her droop against him and lifted her up in his arms setting her on the couch, he tore his eyes away from her face, from her soft lips opening and closing softly in silent protest.  There was nothing left in him but need, he needed her and his fingers caressed the bare, cooling skin of her arm as he fed from the horrible wound he had made in her neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duo lay flat in the grass, listening to the rising wind.  Leaves twirled merrily among the shimmering white gravestones  as the early purple twilight fell over him and Cathy.  Who'd have thought she would be so adventurous  and so dominant, he wondered tiredly as he felt her fingers trace patterns on his chest as she caressed his skin.

Her passion had been wild and desperate and he had quickly forgotten his aversion to the location she'd chosen.  She lay quietly in his arms now but his misgivings were starting to return.  It was growing colder and the wind was really kicking up. She had to be cold, he thought tenderly, as he reached around with his arm to find his jacket and pull it over her.  It was growing darker quickly, the purple light deepening until it was nearly black at the eastern edge of the sky.  Where they lay on top of the hill among the dead seemed a magic place halfway between good and evil.  As the darkness started winning over the light he somehow knew this place was totally evil, light or dark it was evil and Duo was suddenly sure of that, there was no goodness here.  A fading cloud seemed to brighten in response to his thoughts, the thin wisps of it were the like the pale strands of Sr. Helen's hair at night after she removed her wimple.  She leaned over his bed and asked him to say his prayers…_deliver us from evil_.  It was evil, this place was evil.  Instinct told him to get up and run.  But the girl he held in his arms seemed to weigh him down against the cold earth so that he could not move.  But why wasn't Cathy, warm, loving Cathrine, afraid of it?

He felt her move restlessly beneath his jacket and he chuckled uncertainly in a show of bravado he really didn't feel.

"You got an itch you need Duo to scratch baby," he drawled, circling her waist with his hand, trying to will away his crazy fears.

Cathrine sighed as her hand found what it sought.  A hot tear slid from the corner of her eye but she forced her sorrow back, she had to be strong, had to save Trowa.

Even if she had to sacrifice the one she loved.

_"You must buy him back with blood," _old Agatha's voice urged her from far away.__

With a sharp, strangled cry she rose up on her knees, a knife gleaming in the dying daylight.  

Duo stared in disbelief as Cathrine raised the knife over her head and started it plunging down toward his heart.  At the last second he rolled away and she fell to her knees, crawling toward him , sobbing desperately as he got to his feet and stared at her.

"No WAY!  You're crazy," he shouted, backing away from her.  He pulled a gun from a hidden pocket in his pants and pointed it at her, holding her off.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, still clutching the knife in her hand and stepping hesitantly toward him.  "I had to.  He's my brother! Don't you understand?  He's my brother!!"

"I understand you're nuts lady!  I loved you, I could have loved you and you were using me as some insane sacrifice?"

"Loved me?"  Cathrine repeated, dropping the knife and wrapping her arms around herself.  "Duo—"

He turned and ran from her.

He paused a second, she was calling him back.

"Duo! Wait—

"You got the wrong guy, I'm not going to be your sacrificial lamb," he yelled back, never turning to look at her.  He walked rapidly, his heart thudding with the shock of what she had tried to do and the horrible hurt she had inflicted on his soul with her betrayal.  Lost in his thoughts he tripped over a tangled piece of wreckage that had been hidden in a pile of brush.  Duo saw something rising up to meet him as he fell and only a quick, instinctual move kept him from being impaled on the handlebar of what had once been a motorcycle.

He lay on the ground a moment, catching his breath.  He looked over at the bike, studying it.  He knew that bike, knew it well.  He'd helped Trowa work on it sometimes on lazy Saturday afternoons.  Afternoons when Tro hadn't been behaving as bizarrely as he was now.  The bike had been about the only 'normal guy' thing about Trowa. He loved that machine almost as much as he'd loved his Gundam.

The bike was a mangled piece of hardware now, fit only for a junkyard.  It looked like it was covered with rust, thick in some places and very lightly in others.  Terrible brown stains spread all over the twisted metal.  Duo touched the bike and it clattered into a heap, he saw something horrible, shiny and red brown like a piece of somebody's insides clinging to the opposite handlebar and a torn jacket lay under the wheel covered in that same rusty red-brown that stained the bike. 

Duo made an irritated sound and pulled out the small penlight he kept in the pocket of his leather Preventer jacket.  He studied what he saw beneath the wheel, a jacket like his own and embroidered on the pocket the letters BAR.  The rest of the letters were lost beneath the exploded tire but Duo knew what it read.

This had been a fatal accident.  Whoever'd been riding Trowa's bike and wearing Trowa's jacket was dead.  But where was the body?  No one could have walked away from this mess of blood and glass and metal.

He remembered Trowa's white face appearing out of the darkness the night before and heard his own joking voice.

_"You look like death warmed over buddy," _he had teased_._

Some thing was walking around out there in Trowa's body, that thing should be lying here rotting in the woods but it was walking around.

Walking around killing people, Duo thought, remembering the images of VanZehn's throat.

He jogged quickly back to where he'd left Cathrine but she was nowhere in sight, the car was gone.  

The Preventer pulled out his gun and ran down the road, he stopped the first car he saw with a desperate shot in the air and a wild look in his eyes.  The driver pulled over and Duo yanked the stunned man out and left him on the side of the road.

"Mon Dieu," the man said, crossing himself carefully.  "That boy looked like he was being chased by Death itself."  

He shivered and pulled his coat closer as the slim white birches twitched in the wind and he walked slowly in the direction of home.  He walked in the middle of the road, the local people knew that there was something bad in the cemetery on the hill and avoided it.  No place that held the tormented souls of so many angry dead could ever be safe for the living.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not so horrible to die.  The pain was part of her now she felt merely like she was flowing into him, becoming part of him.  Light and sound were fading away and she was blind and deaf.  Only the sense of touch was left to her, his body covering hers, the cold fingers on her skin and his lips hot against her open throat taking her to unearthly heights of pain and pleasure that were killing her as surely as the vast amounts of blood loss.  She couldn't hear the door shudder in its frame or the faraway shouts that filtered in. 

Then there was nothing, his presence was gone.  The unwanted intruders were dousing the golden light left by Trowa's touch with a little hiss like a bucket of cold water striking rosy embers.

There was only the pain, terrible and unbearable.  And then even the pain was gone and she floated on the darkness to a place even more black, into a void of nothingness of non-existence and she felt immediate sharp terror as it drew her into itself.  Visions tormented her and one in particular, a scene from a future that would never happen now, she could see through a mist, a day some years in the future, he would have seen that he loved her, they might have had a life together instead of this terrible dependency they now shared.  She was given a glimpse of her hell, she had made him need her and she was dying.  And her death would kill him.

Suddenly Midii fell to Earth with a sick jolt, thick alien liquid pulsing in her veins pulling her back from the brink of the dark void. Powerful lights, bright and hurtful, shone down on her face.  Strange voices and urgent movement surrounded her.  

"I think she's going to make it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were no secrets, despite the efforts of the top Preventer brass to hide what had happened it was whispered about in the hallways and people passed around the story embellishing it and retelling it, shivering with vicarious fear and thrills.

Trowa Barton had tried to kill Midii Une.  Duo Maxwell had burst into his apartment and found him tearing her throat out, drinking her blood.  He'd killed Van Zehn too, horribly mutilating him and letting him bleed to death in the street outside Club  Crimson.

And he was still out there, disappearing into the night as Duo worked desperately to keep Midii from dying, pressing Trowa's discarded white shirt over the gaping wound in her neck to keep her from bleeding to death.

They walked past her office as often as they could once she returned to work.  Heavy white gauze bandages covered the repairs doctors had made to her mutilated throat.  They were curious but they avoided her, a thin, pale woman with terrifyingly empty eyes.  She spoke to no one and no one knew what she did in her office each day.  No one dared to ask.   The superstitious would sneak in when she was out and leave crucifixes and holy water on her desk and make the sign of the cross when her shadow crossed their paths.

Midii saw none of this nor heard the gossip that centered around her, she was searching for him.  The black void he had led her to called out to her and her blood sang and buzzed in her veins as she longed for him.  He was out there somewhere and he needed her.  She had felt his terrible need, cherished his need as he took her, tried to swallow her very life into his.  She had started this and it could not be stopped.  She knew he wanted her to come to him so they could finish what they had started even if it meant their deaths.

After weeks of searching something odd caught her eye.  Abstract bits of information concerning a strange incident and disappearances at an abandoned space refueling station in a remote area of LaGrange Point 3.  A shuttle had stopped there after a sudden systems failure.    A refueling had taken place out of the unmanned station's diminishing supply but it was cut off before enough fuel had been deposited in the shuttle to allow it to take off.  Computers monitored these transactions.  The unfortunate shuttle had never arrived at its destination.  The 16 people that had been on board had disappeared.

20.18.15.23.1 

These were the coordinates, she knew that this was where Trowa had gone.

Midii frowned in concentration before a slow smile touched her lips.  It wasn't over, she tipped her head back, her fingers caressing her neck lightly, the healing scars on her throat throbbing with a dull ache and becoming wet with blood that smeared on her fingertips.

"I'm coming," she whispered, gasping as her body jerked with a violent spasm of remembered pleasure and fear.  This was all they would ever have and now she wanted it with a need as great as his.  They had resurrected her body so he could have her again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Midii's contamination of the information files concerning the situation at the refueling station took weeks to untangle.  It was nearly a month then after Midii's discovery that the Preventer Agency caught on and made the refueling station incident a priority.  A team, headed by Heero Yuy and Duo Maxwell, was sent out to investigate.

It was a cold and lonely place, inhabited by eternal darkness and ageless rocks, sharp and ugly.  It was a place of desperation, constructed when the colonies had been new on a rather large but stable asteroid that circled the earth in a haphazard orbit.  It was all but obsolete, hardly necessary now with the increased shuttle traffic made possible by the freedom and ease of movement from one colony to the other.

Heero glanced at the photos taken of Van Zehn's wounds and the clinical descriptions of Trowa's attack on Midii.  He studied the middle-aged woman who lay lifeless in the small rest lounge at the abandoned station.  He straightened her glasses and tugged her blonde hair down to cover the wound in her throat.  There was nothing he could do about her staring eyes that communicated the terror she had felt at the point of her death.  There was no way to close her mouth and silence the permanent scream that was fixed on her face.  Rigor mortis had set in.

They'd found all sixteen of the shuttle's passengers.  Something had stalked them and killed them. Heero narrowed his eyes in annoyance as Duo walked a step behind him, muttering about vampires and the undead.  Heero Yuy did not believe in such nonsense, there was a logical explanation to this and he would find it.  War did strange things to people, it could happen during the conflict as it had to Quatre or someone could break years later.  That had to be what had happened to Trowa.

And if he found him here he would kill him.

One last door remained unopened.   According to the plans Heero had obtained of the refueling station it was a small sleeping quarters constructed for repairmen who had occasionally come out during the war to maintain the mechanisms and computers.

Duo hung back, ridiculously clutching at the cross he had taken to wearing, as Heero kicked in the door and held his gun before him as he entered the room.

"There they are—sleeping," Heero whispered, nodding his head toward the couple lying on the bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets.  He and Duo could see Trowa's spiky bangs and the mess of Midii's wavy blonde hair as she slept in his arms.

Duo wondered why Heero didn't think it odd that Trowa hadn't heard them.  He'd been a Gundam Pilot like them; he should have heard them long ago…

Heero was approaching the bed now and Duo tagged behind, something sick twisting in his stomach.  He didn't want to go there, something was wrong.  Couldn't Heero sense it?

Heero reached out and whipped back the blankets.  They were not sleeping.  Duo saw the thing, the thing that had been Trowa, wrapped protectively around Midii's corpse, which was curled in his arms in a semi-fetal position.  He and Heero stared down at the bodies for a long, silent moment before Heero reached out and  grabbed Trowa's shoulder, turning him on his back.   The shoulder he'd touched started to crumble like dust and like a tower of cards his entire body collapsed in on itself, a dry, desiccated heap of bones and dust.

"Oh Jesus!," Duo screamed, calling at last on the God of life instead of death.

Midii fell back without the support of Trowa's body, her skin stretched tight and dry like antique parchment against her bones.  There was nothing left of her but the skin and bones.  He had totally consumed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Winter had passed and it was springtime again. Duo sat nursing a drink at Hilde Schbeiker's wedding to Jamie Hunter, former OZ colonial unit commander from L2.  He found himself looking up into her pretty, joyous face and he forgot his woes for awhile.  He was really happy for her, happy she had found a good life, the best, with someone who loved her and who she loved in return.

He accepted her invitation to dance and teased her by holding her slight body too close for good manners and trying to feel her up.

"Stop it Duo," she said playfully.  "It's too late now, you had your chance with me but you blew it."

"That I did Hilde honey," he said softly, with just a touch of regret.  He had given his love to Cathrine Bloom and it had been the wrong choice.  Her betrayal haunted his dreams almost as much as the sights he'd seen on that abandoned station.  It still hurt so bad, like it had happened yesterday.

As if she read his mind, Hilde tilted her face to Duo's and spoke.

"She's here you know.  I really wanted her to come.  She's been so lonely since Trowa died. We were never friends but I wanted her here.  It's like she's the part of us that Trowa was, a link back to what we all went through in the war.  Don't you think you should talk to her Duo, she's so alone and I thought you cared  about her once?"  
  


"You have no idea," he muttered, but his eyes of their own accord began to search the room for Cathy.

She was very pale and seemed to have lost a lot of weight.  Her bouncy curls were pulled back in a tight chignon that revealed the beautiful lines of her face, the high cheek bones and the mysterious almond eyes that betrayed her gypsy heritage.  She sat at a table with people Duo didn't know.

Heero had written up the report about the whole incident.  He and some crazy psychologists had diagnosed Trowa, post-mortem of course, as have Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome as a result of the war.  It had sent him on a killing spree.  The report said he'd hated Midii for what she'd done to him so long ago and it had sent him over the edge.  His hatred for her had driven him to murder VanZehn, the shuttle passengers and finally Midii herself.

Duo knew that wasn't true.  They hadn't hated each other, he had seen them lying there on that bed, Midii curled up against Trowa's heart.  It was love, a horrible, terrible all-consuming love.  But Heero saw things differently and so that's how the story had ended with an easy diagnosis.  Case closed.

But there were still casualties, still people suffering.  Cathrine was alone, she had lost Trowa and Duo knew damn well how much he'd meant to her.  Midii's three young brothers were truly orphans now, he'd heard how they were being shuttled from foster home to foster home.  Hilde had told him she'd loved those little boys as much as Cathy loved Trowa.

Finally the groom cut in on his dance with Hilde.  He didn't find Duo's flirtations with his new bride at all humorous and shot the braided Preventer a rather nasty glare.  Duo Maxwell had come between him and Hilde for far too long from the moment he'd escaped their transport to the Moon he'd been a fascination for her.  But that was finished now and she was his.  

"The jealousy's kinda cute Jamie.  But don't forget Chief, you're the one I love, the one I want to be with," Hilde whispered in his ear, pressing herself close.  

She was really his, the brave girl he'd met so long ago.  So beautiful now with the white veil frosting her blue-black hair.  He bent to kiss her and forgot about Duo, forgot everyone but her.  Yes there were definitely happy endings in this world, he had his right here with him.

Duo walked off the dance floor with his head down, intent only on getting back to the bar and drowning his morbid thoughts in more liquor.  There was a thud and a small shriek and he looked on the floor and saw Cathrine there, sitting on the floor looking stunned.  He'd knocked her over in his hurry to get back to his drinking.

"I-I only wanted to talk with you," she said.  "Please Duo, no one's ever told me what really happened to Trowa."

"Always Trowa isn't it," Duo answered, his voice more bitter and cold than any she'd ever heard.

"I don't think I can move on unless I know," she whispered.  She held out her hand to him and automatically he reached out to help her up.

His body tingled in response to the touch of her hand but his voice was sarcastic.

"You're not gonna knife me if I don't tell you, are you," he asked, looking into her wide pale purple eyes.

"Please Duo, walk with me outside.  We can't talk in front of all these people," she pleaded.

"Think you can tempt me again babe?  No one fools Duo Maxwell twice.  I guess you just want to lure me out and kill me in some insane attempt to resurrect your dead brother.  He's really dead this time okay, nothing but a pile of dust," he said, shaking her off.

Rage and sorrow raced through Cathrine's body, making her knees tremble and her fingers shake. She wanted to deny what he said but it was true, she had hurt him.  But in the time since Trowa's death she had come to realize she could never have stabbed Duo, never spilled his blood on the cold cemetery earth.

She followed after him as he stalked out of the reception.

"I could've killed you if I'd wanted to," she called out.  "Don't you think I could have thrown that knife at you and had my Trowa back?  I couldn't do it, I couldn't kill you to save my brother's life."

He turned to face her and it struck her to the heart when she saw in his eyes what she had done to him with her betrayal.  Dear God, he had truly loved her and she had taken his love and desire and turned it against him. But still she pushed on.

"Please Duo, tell me," she begged.

Wordlessly Duo walked away from her and sat on the far edge of an iron bench placed beneath a flowering crabapple tree.  It was dusk again, the late springtime dusk fragrant with blossoms and punctuated by bird song.  As far away from that night in the cemetery as could be imagined.  

Slowly, Cathrine sat on the opposite end of the bench, leaving space for nearly two people between her and Duo.  They sat silently for a time, Cathrine staring at the tips of her shoes and Duo staring off into the sky, watching the first few stars appear on the horizon. 

"Heero's official conclusion was bullshit," Duo said finally, looking at her.  "Are you sure you really want to know what I saw up there."

Cathrine shivered but she nodded.

When Duo finally finished talking, they had pieced together a story from an awful puzzle of the existence of the supernatural and the powerful force of love gone wrong. Cathrine spoke at last, her voice hopeful.

"Do you think they're together up there somewhere," she asked, sliding her hand across the space on the bench in the darkness.

"Don't know for sure," Duo said.  "I pray they are, I hope they have at least that much."

He reached across the void and took her hand in his.

The End

AN:   Thanks to the Great Saiyagal, my co-author on such works as The Great Romance Debate and The Real Quatre Winner for beta-reading this late last night.  Since  it was late we were silly and came up with some rather funny outtakes on _Insatiable: Life and Death_ to share with you and hopefully lighten your mood after reading this!  Happy Halloween ^_^

#1  .  She drank in the sight of him, loose pants slung low on his hips, a wrinkled white shirt hanging off his shoulders that he'd hastily thrown on in answer to her timid knock.   _He was really hot!! Trowa tenderly reached out and wiped the drool from Midii's lower lip.   GS: Were those like flannel jammie pants he was wearing?  MU: Not really, but if they were they would have had little Counts from Sesame Street on'em ^_~_

_#2  _There was nothing left in him but need, he needed her and his fingers caressed the bare, cooling skin of her arm as he fed from the horrible wound he had made in her neck.  _GS:  Fed from her?  MU: Yeah, he like took a little curly straw and popped it right in her vein!_

_#3  _After fic discussion:_  GS: They're dead! You killed them!  MU:  Well it was kind of justice for Duo and Hilde who died in The Gundam Pilots Wives, they wanted their revenge.  Besides it worked out good for Trowa here because Midii got the transfusion and he got to drain her twice ^_^  GS: I can just see Trowa eternally dragging Midii around by the hair to hospitals and such trying to get a refill O_o_


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